#. once i memorise all the sound laws it's gonna be so over for you guys

[kutyozh]

the word "hlad": *exists*

me: what on earth could this mean

dictionary: it means "hunger"

me: ohh right, czech doesnt have "g" (-> h) and also remember liquid metathesis haha so it makes sense that Proto Slavic *goldъ evolved into Russian голод gólod and Czech hlad! :D

2 hours later

the word "hlas": *exists*

me: what on earth could this m-

[chairismaticchair]

Star Crossed Enemies

Happy Holidays @yellowartistsunshine ! @sanderssidesgiftxchange

Summary:  When two rival theatre majors get cast as the leads in "Romeo and Juliet", something blossoms between them. Something beautiful.

This is Roceit, there are some swears. I had lots of fun writing this, especially since this was my first roceit fic!

If Roman despised a single person in the world with all his body and soul, that would be Janus Taylor. He hated how snagging lead roles in plays and musicals always became a fight between them. He hated how smug Janus constantly acted. He hated his stupidly posh accent that was only really obvious when he was on stage performing Shakespeare. He hated how he couldn't have any straight (not that it was possible with Roman any other way) or slightly logical conversation with Janus. He hated him, from the tip of his dumb black beanie, to the soles of his beige loafers. Overall, he hated Janus.

Whenever they passed in the college, there would be a flurry of middle fingers and middle-school-grade insults like "shit head" and "dumbass" thrown about with as much malice as two theatre majors could. They seemed to lose all common sense when in the mere vicinity of each other, instead becoming caricatures of theatre rivals. Arguably, that was exactly what they were.

"Taylor." Roman spat out. "I heard the LGBTQ+ Club's  putting up another play soon. Suppose you're going to want the lead role. But it's mine." He declared, as if no one had expected Roman Diaz Santos to want the lead role. 

Decei - shit sorry, Janus hissed back. "I heard it's gonna be Shakespeare, and guess who always gets Shakespeare roles? Me. Shithead." He added the “shithead” as an afterthought, as if this was his first rivalry and he had almost forgotten rule #315 of the Rivalry Book of Rivals.

They then tossed each other middle fingers like mutual salutes and marched off, heads held up high and refusing to turn back.

"Man, Janus really is a dick isn't he?" Roman complained to his best friend Virgil Teo, who sighed.

"Yes, Roman. Just like the -" He pulled out a notebook and made a little mark. "534 other times you've told me. This year. I don't even know what's that bad about him." 

"Well of course you don't get it. You two dated freshman year. Honestly, I thought you had better taste."

"And I do. That's why we broke up." Virgil slapped Roman's shoulder playfully. "Who are you to insult my dating life? You haven't had a single date since the start of college."

"I've had dates." Roman protested.

"Bad dates, Princey. Those don't count. Maybe you could send it to the Guinness World Records."

Roman gasped in mock annoyance. "How dare you, Virgil.” He gave a wistful sigh. “Anyways, I just want to find my soulmate. They’re out there, I can just feel it. A Juliet or Julien to my Romeo.”

"You're always are full of bullshit, aren't you, Roman?"

---

Patton, a senior, walked up to the front of the leture theatre and tapped the teacher on the shoulder. He whispered something in her ear and the teacher sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose frustratedly. "Hi! The LGBTQ+ Club is putting up two Shakespeare plays for this November! The first one will be a gay Romeo and Juliet, called Romeo and Julien. The other will be a sapphic 'Much Ado about Nothing'. Audition sign ups start next week Monday and end on Friday! Thank you!" Patton was very chirpy for 8 a.m. .

Now, this was when shit hit the fan and our story gets exciting. Roman turned to Virgil enthusiastically. "I'm totally auditioning for Romeo." Meanwhile, all students in the near vicinity who wanted Romeo's role sighed in unison.

Across the lecture theatre, Janus turned to his friend Remus excitedly. "I'm auditioning for Julien! This is gonna be great."

"For fucks sake." Someone in the near vicinity groaned and his friend patted his back sympathetically. 

---

Roman sat outside the auditorium, swinging his feet while waiting for his turn to audition. Walking down the corridor, Janus turned to Roman and picked up the chair beside him. He moved 6 feet away and plopped the chair down.

"So, Santos." He started, staring intensely at the auditorium door.

Roman found his shoes absolutely riveting. "Yeah?"

"What role are you auditioning for?" 

Tapping the side of his chair, Roman said, "The lead one, obviously."

"Oh." Janus paused and turned to look directly at Roman. Sticking out his hand, he gave him a slight smile. "Well may the best one win."

Roman took the hand hesitantly. "Yeah Janus. Break a leg."

---

The large board outside the auditorium was a crowd favourite among students. It was constantly updated with rehearsal times, casting choices and upcoming performances, you know, the classic cool stuff.

Roman and Janus were the first to arrive at the board and glanced at each other before looking down the corridor with longing. 

A boy with big circular wire framed glasses bounded down the corridor, an A4 paper in his hand. He waved excitedly at the two in front of him. "Hi Roman! Hi Janus! Waiting for results?"

The two nodded in synchronisation. 

"Oh, well I got them here!" He got out a stapler and stapled the paper to the board, the sleeves of his turquoise hoodie large and dangly. 

Romeo: Roman Diaz Santos

Julien: Janus Taylor

The two boys turned to each other in horror.

"Y - you mean -"

"You thought-"

"Julien."

"Romeo."

"WAS THE LEAD ROLE?"

The boy, Patton, looked at them in amusement. "Well, you both got main roles, so congrats! Rehearsals start in two weeks and I'll give you guys your scripts tomorrow. Have fun!" 

He patted them both on the back before heading off, skip in his step.

Janus and Roman turned to look at each other in horror once more. 

---

There is a moment in one's life, where they will reflect on everything they have done, and wonder what mistakes they had made to lead them down this path. As Roman flipped through the script Patton had handed him, that was exactly what he was doing. "You mean to say, I have to kiss this - this snake 5 times? Outrageous. Unacceptable."

They sat in a circle, everyone who participated in the play knee against knee. It was far too close for comfort and Roman was probably going to vomit onto the rest of the cast.

Virgil, who was in charge of lights and sound and sitting next to him, smirked. "Princey, this is literally a play about you two in love. 5 kisses are the minimum."

"And I am right here, you know." Janus looked slightly offended, leaning over and looking at Roman, who was a Virgil away. "And I'm not that bad at kissing. Ask Virgil. "

Virgil choked. 

Before Roman could retort, Patton interrupted them. "Okay guys! Don't forget to practice your lines. Rehearsals start in two weeks so I hope you manage to memorise some of your lines."

As they left the auditorium, Roman whispered to Virgil. "Is Janus actually good at kissing?"

Virgil just shrugged.

Patton called after the leaving group. "Roman? Janus? Please get whatever feud is going on between you two and throw it away. You two need to cooperate so that we can all work together. Go bond over the next few days. Thanks!”

Bond? With Janus? Roman never wanted to hear those words in the same sentence ever again. There was an odd creeping feeling that grew in his stomach and crawled up his throat invasively. It was foreign and weird. Maybe an allergic reaction.

“Oy! Janus! We probably have to - to get to know each other better.” Roman could feel heat spreading from his toes all the way to his cheeks. Why was he blushing? He should not be blushing. “So, do you wanna go grab some food tonight?”

Janus’ eyes widened and he physically stepped back. He pointed at Roman, before pointing back at himself. “You? Offering me? Dinner?” 

Roman shot a wink at Janus cheekily, before turning around to hide his blush. What was he doing? He never flirted with his rival. Was that even flirting? Tugging his hair down in a pitiful attempt to hide his burning red ears, he turned to Virgil. 

Virgil wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, before elbowing Roman in the side. “Stepping up your game, Santos? Impressive.” 

Roman blushed even harder, and looked away. 

---

Roman had had his fair share of dates, if that was what you called a dinner like this, and he never knew what to say. He pulled out his best card. 

“So...ya like jazz?” 

Janus choked on his iced lemon tea. "Fucking Bee Movie?” 

“Well, you do wear black and yellow 80% of the time, so you clearly like bees. Ergo, Bee Movie.”

An eyebrow was raised. “Impressive. You almost sound as smart as Logan.”

“I wish. He’s an absolute genius.” Logan was studying law, would probably become the valedictorian, and was dating Patton. Truly a legend.

“What’s your favourite animated movie then?” Janus asked. “Mine certainly is not the Bee Movie. There are loads of better Dreamworks films. I love Megamind."

“Oh, Megamind is really good! Choosing a favourite… that’s so hard though!” Roman bounced in his seat. Another movie lover? Perhaps, Janus wasn't too bad.  

Janus laughed and the food must have been tainted or something, because Roman’s heart skipped several beats. 

---

“Right! Let’s start at Act 1, Scene 5. You guys are at the party and this is when Romeo meets Julien for the first time. Action.” Patton, perched on the edge of a chair, announced, eyes shining with excitement. 

Roman glanced over at Janus, clad in a hoodie and jeans. He was flipping through his script and mumbling lines to himself. It was their first rehearsal so they were still allowed to look at their scripts. It also happened to be their first kiss scene. Pink tinted Roman's cheeks at the thought. Kiss… Janus? The two words seemed so foreign next to each other, yet they felt as though they were meant to be. He couldn't stop his eyes lingering over Janus' light pink lips. He turned away quickly, glancing at his script. Romeo kisses Julien.

Romeo.

Kisses.

Julien.

Shaking his head, he looked up at the people on stage, waiting for his cue. He had to stop thinking so much. Thoughts were dangerous. Who knows where they may lead?

Roman wondered what Janus' lips tasted like.

Oh for fucks sake. 

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. Roman shoved his face back into the script, mumbling his lines under his breath and waiting for his queue to come on stage.

Stepping onto the stage, he channeled Romeo Shakespearean thoughts. It was a little hard in his button up shirt and jeans, but he was a professional. “What lord is that which doth enrich the hand of yonder knight?” He gestured towards Janus. 

A server bowed politely. “I know not, sir.”

“Oh, he doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems he hangs upon the cheek of night. Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear, beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows. As yonder lord o'er his fellows shows. The measure done, I’ll watch his place of stand. And, touching his, make blessèd my rude hand.” He spoke to the audience, but couldn’t help think about how accurate this was. Janus too, was really hot. 

Roman spoke some more about how hot Julien was, and the rest of the rehearsal was a blur. He wasn’t Roman anymore. In front of this audience? He was Romeo, a rich lovestruck teenager. 

Then suddenly, he found himself staring into Janus’ eyes, and he was Roman all over again. 

Janus’ eyes, a deep, rich brown that gave Roman a steady look, pierced into Roman’s heart. He spoke towards the audience, but he sounded so genuine and sincere as he uttered his lines. “Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.”

Roman gave Janus a soft smile, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Then move not, while my prayers’ effect I take.”

Closing his eyes, he leaned in and brushed Janus’ lips. It was hesitant, and soft, and he could hear Janus' quiet gasp, as if he wasn't expecting it. It was barely a kiss, more like a peck, but Roman could feel heat rushing into his cheeks. “Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.” He said, loud enough for the audience to hear him.

“Then have my lips the sin that they have took?” Janus cocked his head to the side, looking far more innocent and coy than Roman had ever seen him behave before.

“Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.” This time, Janus stood on tiptoes and kissed him. A proper kiss that made the butterflies in his stomach flutter, and Roman wanted to stay like that forever and ever. The scent of Janus' cologne made him giddy and he took Janus' hands, pulling him closer. On one hand, they were playing parts in a play, and on the other hand, everything felt oh so real, from the hoodie toggles that tickled his button up shirt to Janus' soft fingers gripping his hands tightly.

When they finally pulled away, Roman gazed at Janus' shining brown eyes in what must have been a lovestruck expression. He found his Julien.

---

"You BITCH!" Virgil slapped the study table violently.

"What did I do?"

"1 year. 1 fucking year of you making fun of me falling for a white guy and here you are, falling for the exact same white guy." Virgil looked vaguely irritated. "Even my mom was like," He put his hand at his ear like a phone and did an exaggerated Chinese accent. "Aiyah ah boy, I know you like boys, but an angmoh gao is too too much already. But don't worry lah, 4 months is not long, you still can leave him.” Do you even know what that means, you ass?”

He suddenly burst out in laughter. "This is great, it's my turn to poke fun." He rubbed his hands together excitedly. "What was the kiss like? Was it...spicy?"

"Weren't you there?"

"Yeah, but I want a personal recount. Actually, no. Give me the P.E.E.L. format. Point, evidence, example and link on Janus' kissing skills. Go." 

"Oh, er. Janus was a… good kisser?" Roman didn't kiss much. "Um, point. His hair is all fluffy and I feel it brushing against my forehead, which gives me butterflies and this warm tingly sensation that ran through my body and gave me goosebumps. And he makes this noise whenever we kiss that is so cute, he honestly sounds genuinely surprised whenever it happens, even though we're following a script. And his cologne smells so good, oh my god I need to get the brand name, it's like kinda ashy, but not quite and it was a bit light, like a nice stroll in a forest. Holy shit it smelled nice. And-"

Virgil raised an eyebrow and paused Roman's tangent. "He wore cologne? He never wears cologne."

"Oh." Roman's eyes widened. 

"Maybe…" Virgil wiggled his eyebrows. "He wore it for the kiss scene." 

The heat that decided to congregate on Roman's cheeks was undeniable. "Why - why would he do that?" 

"He likes you, ya dumbass. And he wanted to impress you, so he decided that hoodie plus beanie plus cologne was a good combo."

Roman stared at his feet. "It was."

Virgil stood up and patted Roman on the head comfortingly. "There, there, it's alright. White guys aren't all that bad."

"Oh fuck off."

Virgil bowed and shot Roman the finger. Truly a man of eloquence and class. Roman opened a picture on his phone from his date with Janus. Janus was smiling, and Roman could feel himself smiling too as he looked at the picture of Janus. Of his Julien.

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

okay, y’all, i’ve gotta back on my tl;dr bullshit soapbox about something:

so, the other day, i was just mindlessly scrolling through my corporate & capitalist hellscape facebook™️ (i.e. LinkedIn) and came across this totally trite mostly bullshit meme that was shared by some corporate executive search man (whose name i decided to crop out bc eh):

so i obviously agree with the last three points on this list, bc god yes my life would’ve been a bit better if I didn’t get all my dialogue about mental health only from teen mags and horrible portrayals in teen tv shows (and also this hellsite). and hell yeah everyone, and I mean EVERYONE needs to learn that failure is okay many situations (like failing a class in uni or school) bc everyone fails at something sometimes. and dealing with failure is HARD. and time management is something that I’m pretty sure everyone lies to fuckin hell about on their resume, bc lots of people really suck at it, myself included. so yeah. that needs to be taught. and i also agree with the “how to manage your health” point. bc thats becoming ever more prevalent and important with career burn out etc.

but entrepreneurship? people management? conflict resolution? creativity? how to manage money? public speaking? like y’all. three of those ARE taught/learned in school, who the fuck wrote this meme? 

for anyone who actually paid attention in maths class, (which is probably very few people outside of the top performing classes), there WAS A WHOLE FUCKING UNIT that focuses on financial maths (in australia anyway). I ignored this unit as well as maths in general at school, bc I generally hated maths and was convinced that I was somehow never going to get a job. but i remember the gist of the overall topic and its subtopics. one subtopic teaches you how to calculate your wages in various contexts (overtime, double-time and a half, holiday payments, im pretty sure maternity leave pay was jammed in somewhere? idk if other countries would have double time & a 1/2 like australia though). another subtopic teaches you how to calculate interest on bank loans and credit rates on credit cards. a third subtopic teaches you how to calculate savings (obvs in terms of discounts in shops)....im sure there was a bit about budgeting in there somewhere? im pretty sure there were some questions were about tax payments somewhere as a subtopic enrichment exercise? but you get my gist. are these not money management skills? in some sense? like if i could find one of my old maths textbooks or old maths books i’d give an example of a question, to make my point stronger. but the problem, like i said before, is that a load of people (myself included) just zone out in maths in high school and stop trying with it. they forget what they’ve learnt, and just remember how much they hated algebra and how they’ll never use it again. maths was one hell of a fucking strong bitch, guys. but maybe i’m wrong.

creativity? excuse me? have people forgotten about art classes? drama classes? english classes? music classes? need i go on? okay don’t get me wrong, most of these classes did focus a lot on memorising quotes or facts about people (artists/writers/poets/composers/dramatists etc) or specific  periods/movements in art or theatre or literature for example.... but the amazing sculptures/paintings etc people created in art for their final projects in year 12, or even in year 10 were works of their imagination. the scripts people write in drama or maybe english (if you had a fun teacher who did a screenwriting unit, for example) are creative asf. especially in year 12 when they do their major projects, where they may produce a monologue or a short movie, and then there’s a group piece. drama students might even make their own costumes for these performances. LIKE AIN’T THAT A LOT OF CREATIVITY RIGHT THERE Y’ALL????? and english. lowly old english. THEY HAVE A WHOLE FUCKING TOPIC ON CREATIVE WRITING FOR FUCKS SAKE. the original music people might create for their final projects too in year 12? does that not count as creativity? like yes, i know a lot of these things do still have to meet bs assessment criteria (especially in catholic schools, where the main things are you don’t offend the catholic education office and jesus/god lmao) to be considered worthy of a mark for your year 12 exams. but FUCK. HOW THE FUCK AREN’T ANY OF THESE SUBJECTS COUNTED TOWARDS BEING CREATIVE???????? like fuck your corporate creative ideation or w/e bullshit, Callum. drama and english even lend themselves to improvisation in some instances, like public speaking, which is examined further, below.

next, we move on to public speaking. this shit is basically taught from the first goddamn day of “show & tell” in kindy/kindergarten, and this fucker has the gall to say that it’s not fucking taught in schools? someone call in miley cyrus/hannah montana to throw the fuck down in this motherfucking hoedown BC THIS STUPID-ASS MEME-FUCKER HAS NERVE. i hated public speaking. absolutely hated it. even though it was ironically one of the places i ended up excelling in in english classes. even when i fucked up in my english speeches with like “oh, fuck.... said nelson mandela,  i’ve seem to’ve lost my palm card. wait, shit! there it is... excuse me while i pull it out of my ass. whoops, sorry miss” *bats eyes and finger guns at my year 9 english teacher who has her head in her hands and is done with my shit, while the class laughs at my gaffe* i’d still end up with like 73% or like 26/30. it was baffling. but for people who weren’t the class clown/smart alec like i was from years 7-10 (and like i actually wasn’t once i moved schools).... public speaking is like the leading cause of anxiety, right? like by the time i got to doing speeches/presentations at uni i was having panic attacks... the thought of presenting to my classes made me fucking sick with fear and anxiety. nearly every subject i did at uni (even when i tried to avoid subs with public speaking assessments) and throughout school had some type of presentation/speech whatever you want to call it project/activity in it. even fucking SPORT/PDHPE at school and even philosophy at uni. and these fuckers are saying its not taught in schools. FUCK  OFF. like yeah, i get that they actually mean it in the professional sense.... where people can give the sappy bs motivational speeches or an insightful ted-talk worthy 20-minute presentation... or a great sales pitch. but like??? save that for mike “my dad phoned in to EY and i have a job waiting for me after uni” mcfuck in a business major or law degree? or for clubs like toastmasters? fuck. ok enough of the skills we learn in school. let’s move onto the businesslike-sounding ones of “people management”, “conflict management” and fucking “entrepreneurship”. like. what the fuck? okay in some sense people management and conflict management could potentially be used in managing friendships and relationships in your personal life. but like. i can feel the business underpinnings and i dont like it lmao. like why do you want fully functioning adults straight out of school, franklin? and there’s extra credit conflict management subjects at uni??? or at least my home uni had it... and i never did them bc they were intensive courses during summer break lol. but the one that pissed me off the most was entrepreneurship. LIKE ARE KIDS NOT FUCKING ALLOWED TO BE KIDS NOW????? well  apparently: “NO! YOU MUST ALWAYS THINK OF MONEY MAKING WAYS TO BE RICH! YOU MUST BE ENTREPRENEURIAL!!!!!! YOU MUST GENERATE BUSINESS IDEAS FROM THE TIME YOU CAN FUCKIN’ WALK!!!!! AND SPEAK!!! CHILDHOOD AND BEING A TEENAGER DON’T EXIST WORKER BEE!!!! CAPITALISM FOR ALL!!!! WORKER BEES!!! CAPITALISM IS YOUR FRIEND!!! OWN A BUSINESS BY THE TIME YOU’RE 8 YEARS OLD!” like it’s insidious asf. and it doesn’t acknowledge that most entrepreneurs are already privileged people anyway, who usually have some type of money to start off their venture (or that’s what it feels like anyway). and yeah throw all the “THIS BOY IS AN ENTREPRENEUR AT 18!!! 18!!!???? BY STARTING HIS OWN BUSINESS AT 12!!!! WHAT A CHAMP! 😁🙃” clickbait news stories at me, but i don’t fucking care. the concept and perceived over-importance and almost preaching mindset of entrepreneurship is slowly becoming insidious and toxic asf. call me paranoid. but that’s what it feels like.

but with those last three topics, i want to make a point that school curriculum’s (in australia at least, and probably worldwide) are so jam-packed already with sport (which is pointless and shitty), geography (ok how to read maps is important, but i never bothered to learned to do it properly), history, science, english etc etc etc..... that like.... where the actual fuck are the gonna jam the above bs (people management”, “conflict management” and entrepreneurship) into the curriculum???? and also teachers are already over-worked enough as it is, they don’t need another load of shitty subjects pushed onto them. and they sure asf don’t earn enough (especially in the states) to have this bs pushed into their subject schedules either. keep them at uni, where they should be. or just in the workplace/in the general public where they belong. and if people suggest that you could probably push these subjects into the year 11/12 business studies programs or elective commerce courses in years 9/10, save your goddamn breath. like i remember looking at business studies hsc papers in years 11/12 to see what they did.... and it was pretty chock-a-block anyway. and my experience of my year 9 commerce was horrible, to say the least. let kids be kids, for fucks sake. they shouldn’t have to be fully functioning adults in the workplace, by the end of high school, for fucks sake. AND ENTREPRENEURSHIP IS NOT AN ESSENTIAL SKILL????!!!! FUCK OFF WITH THAT SHIT, WILHELM. anyway. that’s my rant over about how i hate how corporate people are trying to be #relatablewiththeyouth🙃 with their shitty versions of “10 things i wish we learned in school” memes.... and failing.... without realising that this is why millennials are suspicious and cynical about meme usage by corporate people/corporations.

[gguksgalaxy]

Prologue | BTS | Fuckboy!Au

Masterpost | Next📱>> 

You’ve known Jungkook for years. He’s what they call ‘a fuckboy’ — so what? What he does with other girls is none of your business. However, when you meet his friends he doesn’t seem to feel the same way. ›› AU: Fratboy / University ›› Genre: Smut / Fluff / Angst ›› Rating: 18+ Explicit (sex + mild violence) ›› Pairings: JHS x Reader, MYG x Reader, JJK x Reader, KTH x Reader ›› Word Count: 4.4k Warnings Include: Mentions of family problems, divorce, sex. A/N: I’m finally starting this series, I’ve been working on it for a bit now, and part of it will be Social Media (sm) if i can figure out the right way to combine it :) Thanks to @xiubaek13 @ilujongdae and @xingtrash for helping me with this mess of a series.

It was good to breathe in the air from home again after a year, even though it was in the airport. Your year in the US had been the most amazing time of your life, you gained so many new friends, new skills, new experiences. But it was good to be home, to see your family again, to see Jeongguk again. You were maybe a bit bummed you wouldn’t be able to see your best friend until tomorrow, since you parents were coming to pick you up and it was already late at night. But it wouldn’t make you hug him any less tight once you got to see him again.

With your suitcases close behind you, you exited the baggage area and came back to a group of people waiting for their relatives with balloons, presents and open arms. You searched for your parents in the crowd. Instead, you found a familiar mop of dark brown hair hiding a pair of bright eyes that crinkled up in a smile at the sight of you.

You were in his arms within seconds, strong embrace pulling you close to his chest. “God I missed you.” You sighed against his neck, as he lifted you of the ground and spun you around. “So much.”

He chuckled, setting you down and taking his face mask off to reveal a familiar smile. “I missed you too, Sky.” For some reason, you were sure he’d grown over the year that you hadn’t seen him, both in length and in width. “How was your flight?”

“Good Gguk, all good.” You trailed your hand over his arm, his skin warm. “Where are my parents?”

He pouted in mock hurt. “Are you not excited to see me?”

“Of course I am silly. Not like my parents don’t know that.” His muscles flexed beneath your touch, shifting past your grip. “Take me home?”

Jeongguk nodded, leaning over to press his lips to your forehead and pull you against his chest. “God, I’m so glad you’re back home Sky. Part of me was scared you wouldn’t come back.”

You touched his cheek, feelings your chest tighten at the way he looked at you. “What’s got you so sentimental?”

He looked away, bangs shielding his eyes from your view again.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He leant into your touch, taking your hand in his, fingers encasing yours and pulling you close yet again. “Ggukkie.” You chuckled against his chest.

With a bit of push and pull, you let him take one of your suitcases and your bag from you, saying that you looked tired enough already. Strangely, you didn’t feel tired, you felt rejoiced for some reason. Having not seen him for so long, regardless of how many times you’d Skyped until the middle of the night, you were hit with feelings you’d seemed to have grown unaware off. He was your best friend after all, the one who was always there for you no matter the distance. The one who would console you and made you smile, who you could cry with and laugh with until you cried. Life without him, was hard to imagine.

“Wait, did you bring the Audi?” you asked in the elevator, leaning against him.

His soft brown eyes caught yours in the mirror. “Yeah, why?”

“You couldn’t have brought mine?” you pouted at him. “You know how much I hate that stupid car.”

“Yeah, because my legs definitely fit in that miniature thing of yours.” He laughed, sound muffled on top of your head. For a moment all you did was look at each other, and you realised he might’ve changed a bit. You weren’t sure what it was, maybe just the fact that over a year had passed. His eyes seemed to hold something else than his usual wonder and childish glee.

Jeongguk’s Audi still smelled as much of crisp leather as you remembered, and you still hated it. It unsettled your stomach. But you smiled when you saw the snacks and blanket in the passenger seat. He was so attentive, bringing your favourites because you kept complaining how much you missed them. “Can I drive?”

He snorted. “Definitely not.”

“Gguk….” You whined. “Please.”

“You just had an 8 hour flight, you’re not driving anywhere Sky.” He said, opening the door for you after he’d lifted your suitcases into the trunk. “I don’t need you passing out behind the wheel.”

“Yeah, well I’d rather not get into an accident cuz of your reckless driving. Remember when you ran a red light and I almost died?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You didn’t almost die, I’ve never been hit before. Or pulled over for that matter.”

You rolled your eyes. “Because you have all the luck for both of us and we know it. Let me drive, please, I’d rather not have an aneurysm the moment I set foot on homeland. I’m not tired, I promise.”

In the end, he huffed and threw you the keys over the hood. “If you even feel a tiny bit tired you’re gonna tell me and you’re gonna pull over that car. Yeah? I don’t need you nodding of behind the wheel.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You said, opening the door and getting in. The gap between you and wheel was way to big, and you yelped at how far to the floor you sank to even get into the damn seat. “I forgot how much I hate this car.”

Jeongguk laughed, throwing his head back and sliding his hand between your knees and under the seat to pull you closer to the wheel. “Just drive, before I lift you back over my lap into the passenger seat.”

The drive was calm. With your favourite music softly playing through the speakers, and Jeongguk’s gentle voice singing along all the tunes that you’d memorised since you were young. In moments like this, you let your eyes off the road to look at him. His head was thrown back, eyes closed and a small smile playing on his lips. Your heart was content right now, as his hand found yours over the console, playing with your finger without looking at you.

It was after an hour or so that you felt your body grow lethargic and begrudgingly pulled over near a gas station so he could take your spot behind the wheel. He most certainly whined when he tried to get in but couldn’t because you’d left the seat so close to the front. “You and your tiny legs.”

“Maybe it’s you and your big legs.” You joked, squeezing his thigh and making him squirm. “You gotta stop working out so much, before you know it you’ll look like half of the guys back in the US. I don’t understand how they think it’s attractive to have boobs bigger than mine.”

Jeongguk snorted as he hit the freeway again. “Because you really have big boobs.”

“Hey! There’s nothing with my chest mister.”

His eyes crinkled up in a smile, fingers splayed over the beige coloured wheel that made him hands look a bit paler than usual. “Do yours actually get bigger if you work out?”

Casual questions like this were very common between the two of you, and you just shifted in the seat so you could position your legs over his lap. “No, they just turn real firm.”

He hummed, legs spreading comfortably and your feet almost slipping off.

“No Gguk, not a good firm. A bad firm. Like tennis ball firm.”

“Eh.”

“Yeah.” You said, grabbing the blanket and the bag of chips. Jeongguk was a reckless driver, always speeding, always running red lights wherever he could. But he looked comfortable behind the wheel, like somehow he belonged there. His seat slightly reclined, legs spread for no apparent reason, one hand on the wheel and the other dangling off your knees. “So tell me, what have I missed out on?”

He chewed the inside of his cheek, a sign to you that he was most likely about to say something bad. “I might’ve forgotten to mention that I joined a fraternity.”

You choked on your chips right then and there. “I - Excuse me, Mr Jeon?”

“I’m sorry, it just never came up, and I only really joined because of my family and such. But then I saw Jin and we like got talking, and now I’m living in one of the split houses.” He mumbled under his breath, cheeks red because he knew you were going to be upset about this.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know, it never came up? I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

It wasn’t a big deal, you really couldn’t care if he was part of a fraternity. But him not telling you didn’t sit right in your stomach, because he must’ve had a specific reason for it. You told each other everything, and literally everything, from embarrassing doctor’s appointments to hookups gone wrong.

“I mean, I don’t really care. No wonder you were getting your dick wet left and right boy.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, as if I wouldn’t normally.”

“Not that much you wouldn’t!”

“Hey, girls like me, okay. Not my fault.” He shrugged, and you poked your foot near his face just to spite him. “Stop that!”

“Is Jin being nice to you?” you asked, knowing Jin pretty well from when you were younger. As it was, your older sister Livvy used to date him. She met him back when she used to babysit Jeongguk, the event that brought you and your best friend together. Jin is Jeongguk’s older cousin, the other heir to his father’s law firm Jeon-Kim. “Or did he just, not change?”

Jeongguk chuckled, knowing exactly that you were referring to the elder leaving your sister high and dry so he could fuck around in college. “Both, definitely both. My brother’s beyond pissed that I did make it into the second home and he didn’t.”

“What’s that?” you asked, totally aware that you were talking about the notorious fraternity Alpha Tau Omega that was central to the university you would be going to this year as well.

“Oh, it’s like a mansion that’s off campus. Since they’re not allowed to throw parties on campus anymore due to violation of rules. It was something with alpacas, I think? It’s me and 6 others, you’ve seen pics of some of them. Yoongi, and Jimin both live there as well.” You remembered those names clearly, they’d come up before when you were talking to him late at night over the phone. Jimin was 2 years older than him, you remembered him from photos as having an endearing smile and devilishly good looks that were only enhanced by his jet black hair. The other, Yoongi, had shown up in many of Gguk’s snapchats. His hair bleached almost white, and often dressed in something semi casual like skinny jeans and a vest with a baseball cap often pulled far over his face. From what you’d seen from him he was handsome, a glint in his eyes that you couldn’t really explain, but you’d openly admitted to your friend you found him attractive. To which he’d replied that he wasn’t your type. Too…forward, he’d say.

“Okay so, you basically live in a club?”

“I mean, technically, yes. But it’s a really nice place, I have my own room and I only share my bathroom with 1 person.” He turned off the highway, getting home way faster than you would’ve if you’d completed the drive. “I know my dad offered me a penthouse like Hyuk has, but I’d rather live with my friends really. It was way too big and lonely there.”

Jeonhyuk was Gguk’s older brother. It was an understatement to say the two didn’t get along, and you didn’t like him either, at all. Every run in you’d had with the other since you were a kid had made your feelings for him worse. He was as stuck up as his father, money was everything, and he’d use it to claim his status every moment he could.

You licked your lips, closing your eyes. “Hey, you don’t have to justify your choice to me kid. I’d love you even if you lived in a box, because who are we kidding. You’re always at my place anyway.”

“True, very true. It’d be a big box though, you could make a home in there.”

“Pfft, okay mister, I’m just gonna close my eyes for a bit. Don’t kill me while I’m asleep yes?”

“Yes Sky, yes.” You fell asleep to him singing, his fingers drawing patterns on your thigh and relaxing you through the familiarity of it, he always drew the same shapes.

You woke up to him lifting your feet of his lap, laughing when you shot up in fear. “How sad that you woke up, I was gonna carry you upstairs. Seeing that you’re awake though, I guess you can walk.”

Through your window you caught sight of your familiar apartment building. The year you’d been gone, you’d sublet your quite spacious apartment so that you would still have it once you returned. It was a bit further away from your new university than the previous one, but it was near all your favourite spots and it had just become home in 3 years. “Can you piggyback me?”

He protested for a bit, but when you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, he sighed and gave in. “I hope all that McDonald’s didn’t make you too fat to lift.” He said, letting you hop onto his back.

“Stop complaining you baby, we both know you lift more than I weigh.” You shot back, to which he laughed. His hands held you firmly by the thighs as you held your bag in front of his chest.

The material of his leather jacket was slightly slippery but you just had to hold on a bit tighter. He was warm, and you rested your cheek on his shoulder as he carried you to the elevator. You yelped when he pressed you against the mirror, just to annoy you because you knew he could easily carry you. “If you don’t stop being so annoying, I will not let you sleep over.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Oh, because I certainly want to sleep over.”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t miss me in your bed, Jeon Jeongguk. I still remember you complaining how cold it was last December!”

For you and Jeongguk, sharing a bed had become a regular thing. One of the reasons being him always staying over at your house after your sister stopped babysitting him. You had the guest room, but your bed was way more comfortable. Through the years, sharing a bed had evolved into waking up in a mess of tangled limbs and someone most likely drooling on the other. Even though his dad hated it when he kept coming to your place to stay the night, he knew he didn’t have too much of a say in the matter. Some people did thing it was strange, especially since you were 3 years older than Jeongguk. But the age difference really had never mattered to either of you. Maybe you were childish for your age, or whatever. The older you got, the more you both forgot about it.

“Fine.” He sighed, faking annoyance but still carrying you through the door and setting you down on the couch.

The apartment smelled strange, but it was cold, and that feeling of coming back home after a long time crept up your skin ever so slowly. Jeongguk explained how he’d gone grocery shopping with your mom that day, so you’d have some food to eat. He really was somewhat like the third child in your family, both your father and your mother loved him. Your parents were divorced, something that was hard on you three years ago, but now they both secretly always asked you if Jeongguk could come to their christmas dinner and not the other’s. You’d grown used to it, and you were glad they never fought, they still both came for your birthday and got along. They’d just explained how the love was gone.

“I’m going to get the rest of your stuff, go take a shower or something, hmm?”

You nodded, and he did that thing where he briefly brushes his knuckles over your cheek with a fond look in his eyes that you couldn’t explain. It almost brought tears to yours, because you realised how much you’d really missed him. Everything about him. He was a piece of home after all.

After your shower you found him in your bed, scrolling through his phone, jeans discarded on the floor and leather jacket hung over the chair in your bedroom. He was warm as you slid in beside him, and he curled towards you, soft flush spreading over his cheeks as you placed your hand on his arm. “I really missed you.” He whispered.

“What had you so sentimental back at the airport Gguk?”

He licked his lips, arm tucked under his head, leg brushing against yours. “You know, at a certain point I was convinced you had so much fun there, that you’d consider staying there. That you’d decided you wanted to move there permanently and not come back home.”

You looked at him with wonder, seeing the way his eyes slightly glassed over but he managed to push his own tears away. The same way he always would.

“I will always come home Ggukkie, I promised right?” A smile spread over your lips, as you hooked your pinky finger with his. “I don’t break my promises.”

A relieved feelings spread through your body at the sight of his smile. “Yeah, I know.”

“And you know, if you’re scared, or worried, you can always tell me okay? You don’t have to hide things from me. Even if you’re afraid of the answer.”

He nodded, letting go of your fingers and draping his arm over your waist, fingers ghosting ever so lightly over your back through your shirt. “Are you tired?”

“Yeah, a bit.” You mumbled, closing your eyes and breathing out gently. Jeongguk smelled lightly of mint and cotton, fresh and light and just the way you remembered.

After that he didn’t really say anything, and you let his presence lull you to sleep. His warmth was welcoming, even though the nights were still full off summer.

The next day,  you woke up to an empty bed, stretching out, legs moving without obstruction. “Gguk?” you mumbled with your eyes still closed, aware of the sunlight breaking through your thin curtains and painting your body in small streaks of light.

“I’m going to shower.” He said somewhere to your right with a chuckle. “Are your eyes glued shut or something?”

Jeongguk and his stupid jokes. “If you’re naked, then they are.”

“Okay, one, you’ve seen me naked before. Two, it’s not bad of a sight to look at. Three, I’m not, yet.”

You chuckled, his voice also giving away he hadn’t been awake for long. “Just go shower you thot.”

“If anybody is a thot here, it’s you!”

“If I have to get up out of this bed kid, I swear to God I will hav-“

“I’m going, I’m going.” He laughed, closing the door behind him but not locking it.

After a while of just laying around in bed, you got up and shuffled into the kitchen to turn on the coffee machine and toaster. You found strawberries in the fridge, along with a small cake that said “Welcome home little Sis”. After your sister had gone to university for three years, studying business, she’d told your mom and dad she wanted to pursue baking. Your parents, always having been free and accepting with the both of you, supported her. At that time you were 18, and you’d spend many long long nights in the kitchen with her, covered in flour and milk to try and come up with something nice.

You decided to save it for later, your stomach not up for sugar this early. So you took out the strawberries and cleaned them, setting them on the table together with the coffee, toast, and milk.

Jeongguk walked in still towelling off his hair, face a little red and puffy from the shower. He smiled sheepishly and sat down across from you, hand immediately going for the milk to dull down the harshness of his coffee. “Isn’t this weird?”

“Milk in coffee? No?” you giggled, your friend speaking in the pouty way he often did.

“No,” he shook his head. “Us, falling so easily back together as if it’s nothing?”

You cocked your head to the side, waiting for him to gaze back up at you from his food. “It wasn’t like I never saw you. I talked to you at least twice a week, I’ve told you practically everything that happened. Do you think it’s weird.”

“No.” He shook his head again, hair swaying slightly. “I was just thinking.”

“Stop ruminating in your own head Jeongguk.” You said, pushing the strawberries his way. “Eat, enjoy, and stop waiting for something to go wrong.”

It wasn’t uncommon for him to do this. To be nervous about absolutely nothing, to try and problems and mishaps where there were none. “I have to go in an hour or so. I promised your dad I’d drop you off.”

“Do you have something to do?”

His eyes flickered to his phone as it went off, messages showing up in his screen in quick succession. “Family meeting.”

“Family meeting, or family meeting.” You said, unsure of what had suddenly captured his full attention on the small device.

He sighed, shoulders dropping and running a hand through his hair that was quickly drying. “It’s about the company or something. Hyuk’s gonna be there, but so are Jin and his dad. I’m not really sure what’s up, but I’ll just sit through it and hum to whatever they’re yapping about.”

“If you need me to save call you, just send me a text. Yeah?”

“I know, but they’ll probably not try and one up me if Jin’s in there with uncle Seok. Dad hates nothing more than to be reminded that he shares the company and uncle Seok isn’t going to let him talk shit to me. You should’ve seen dad’s face when he implied that Jin could take over the company with one of their partners if I didn’t want part of it. He almost blew a fuse right there.” He grumbled, mouth full of toast. “My brother just needs to keep his big mouth shut.”

“Well, you could try and talk to Jin about it. I’m sure you guys can figure something out.” You said, not having any knowledge on business at all. You had a bachelor degree in philosophy, and a taste for artistic fields like your father had. Writing was your passion, it was the reason you’d fled the country, to find inspiration and actually put your work into motion. Writing had slowly replaced cheerleading over the years, even though you’d joined a small competitive group once you’d decided to settle down somewhere in upstate California.

He got up after he finished his food. “Did you take a lot of videos?” he asked, pointing at your camera that was still set on the counter from yesterday.

“Yeah, I have like 17 SD cards full of stuff. Because we both know my notebook has zero storage.”

Your friend shook his head in disapproval. “Can I edit them?”

“Huh?”

“Your videos, can I edit them? I’ve been looking for a new project but I haven’t really had anything to film for a while. I promise I won’t ruin them.” You took the image of him smiling and scrunching up his nose in the way only he could and stored it in your mind for later as you told him you’d fetch them before you left.

Before he dropped you off, he promised you he’d call. You’d whined a bit when he said he would be busy for the next week with family and school stuff so he might no be able to come see you, but he’d call you and ask for the week after. You’d agreed with a pout, and kissed his cheek before you left him and the smell of his leather interior behind.

The thing was, he didn’t call you. When you called him, he didn’t pick up and texted you to say he way busy and couldn’t pick up right then. It crushed your heart way too easily, because he’d never done this before. You two barely ever texted, calling was always the better option. He had never been too busy to call you, even if it was for a few minutes. It was over a week until you’d finally managed to get a proper hold of him, and even then it seemed like he was doing something that preoccupied him.

“Gguk what’s going on?”

“Nothing babe.” Okay, now you were suspicious, because he never called you that, ever.

“Gguk, don’t lie to me. Is it your brother?”

He was silent, and you could clearly hear voices in his proximity. “No, I’m not. I’m just busy right now. I’m so sorry, I don’t think I have much time this week. There’s a bunch of shit that needs to be settled with the company for some reason, and I have to help around at ATO to get things ready for the start of the year party. Maybe we can meet before class on Monday? I know a great place on campus that you’ll love, it has those tiny cakes.”

The way he kept his voice almost hushed made you frown, but you’d agreed to it nonetheless. You were sure whatever it was that he was chewing on would come out sooner or later. Maybe he was right, maybe the way you fell so easily back into each other was weird. Or it was too easy to be real.

© GguksGalaxy 2018-2020

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

Nickovich (pt. 11)

Ian wakes to find blue eyes fixed on him and a hand lightly cupping his cheek.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He turns to kiss the inside of Mickey’s wrist and smiles slightly. Sunlight is filtering in between the cracks in the curtains and the sounds of the city waking up echo softly through the walls.

There is a flash of something that casts a momentary shadow behind Mickey’s eyes, but then it is gone and his lips are pressing against Ian’s with an urgent intimacy. Ian sweeps his tongue over Mickey’s and pulls him in tight against his body. His hands feel too rough against the soft skin of Mickey’s ribs and Ian slows his movements down. He is trying to consume too much of Mickey at once, he needs to take his time.

The sex is gentler, slower than the night before and the orgasms that leave them shaking in each other’s arms are silent save for a couple of deep sighing breaths. Ian kisses Mickey’s jaw, his temple, his upper lip. He traces the swell of pectoral muscles with this thumb and memorises the colour of his morning stubble, slightly shy of black but not by much. Mickey smiles under Ian’s gaze and nudges his hips lightly against Ian’s.

“Missed waking up like this.”

“Me too.”

Ian nods and then regretfully glances at his watch.

“I have to go.”

“Will I see you again?”

Mickey asks quietly, sitting up and trying to cover up the ache those words cause him by the fumbling open of a cigarette packet.

Ian nods and nudges his forehead lightly against Mickey’s, stilling his hands. They share another kiss and then Ian is rolling out of bed, stopping only to place the filter of a smoke lightly between his lover’s lips.

“I’ll call you.”

Ian promises, taking a few notes out of his wallet and leaving them on the table.

“Get yourself some decent breakfast.”

He winks at Mickey, trying to lighten the heavy mood that has settled around them. Ian is pretty sure Mickey is trying not to cry, he’s got that glassy eyed look and his nostrils are flared wide and the sight makes Ian’s gut clench. He thinks of all those years he would give Mickey those same pleading looks, begging him silently not to go and knowing that he would anyway. It gives Ian a new appreciation of what the other side of those early days must have felt like.

“I’ll call you, Mick.”

He repeats more firmly and the Mickey nods curtly, clears his throat and says

“Okay. I gotta collect a couple things, I’ll be leaving town this afternoon. This evening at latest.”

Ian knew this was likely but actually hearing it leaves him feeling a little light headed.

“Fine. Cool. Okay.”

He turns to the door. He needs to go but suddenly it is all too much. Arriving, leaving, coming, going, hello, and of course, good-bye. Ian wants to say that he’ll definitely be going with Mickey but in truth he still isn’t sure. A teenage love affair is not meant to be like this. It is meant to either run its course, like flames flicking along a linear trail of gasoline and then burn out, or it is meant to shape into a partnership and a life built. What has happened between he and Mickey has been too much of one thing to ever really be the other. It has been a constant battle for every single moment of happiness and now, running away together with the law on their tail … Jesus. It would be hard enough on someone without Ian’s fluctuating mental health issues, but with them it feels like a disaster waiting to happen.

He stares at the door handle in the agony of indecision. As he hesitates, a strong arm wraps around Ian’s waist and he feels Mickey’s cheek press into his shoulder. Ian turns just enough to wrap himself around the shorter man and they stay like that, just holding each other.

“I’m going to call. I promise.”

Ian mumbles into Mickey’s hair and feels a nod against him.

“You take care of yourself, okay?”

Mickey says finally, pulling back, eyes red rimmed but dry. Ian nods and smooths his hands over Mickey’s shoulders and down his arms, memorising as much of his face as he can, drinking in the tiny details and the feel of his skin.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Mickey gives Ian a small smile and with more strength than he knew he had, he lets him go.

*

Mickey presses his forehead against the cool gloss painted door as it closes behind Ian and squeezes his eyes shut tight, willing himself to stay in control.

There is a small sound of blankets being shifted and Mickey pinches the bridge of his nose firmly, setting his shoulders, inhaling deeply and pulling it together.

“You okay?”

Nicky asks quietly and Mickey nods, wiping a hand across his upper lip before turning to face her.

“Yeah, I’m fine. He’ll do what he has to do. Always has.”

Nicky wraps a blanket around her shoulders like a cape and settles herself cross legged on the bed giving him a sympathetic smile.

“You look like you need a drink.”

Mickey puffs out his cheeks with an awkward grimace. He desperately wants to dive into a bottle and not surface until he knows what Ian is going to do but he’s taken too many risks already and he knows he’s a sloppy drunk, especially when he’s upset.

“Nah. I got shit to do. Can’t do it if I can’t think straight.”

“How about we go out for coffee then? This room smells like stale beer, rough sex, and repressed anger.”

“Yeah … well … You spilled the fuckin’ beer!”

Nicky lets out one of her deep throaty laughs and grins at him

“The beer is actually not the worst thing out of those three. C’mon. Let’s go get decent coffee.”

“You suggest that weird glittery coffee place I’m gonna fuck you up.”

“Ian goes there. Don’t you wanna see it?”

“No.”

Mickey runs a hand over his jaw, grimacing at the stubble.

“I’m gonna shower. Order coffee to the room or something.”

“Hey! I like this new side of you. Room service and personal hygiene? You’re a winner, Abe.”

“Not my fuckin’ name.”

Mickey grouches but he’s actually feeling a little better already. Nicky teasing him is a pain in the ass but it’s just really good to have someone around. Anyone really. A distraction from the disturbance that is occurring in his mind.

By the time he finishes his shower and shave there is coffee, fruit and bagels waiting for him. There is also the faint tang of marijuana in the air and he frowns at Nicky accusingly.

“Would you believe me if I told you that a couple of high-school guys with leather bombers and bad attitudes broke in and smoked all your pot while you washed up?”

Nicky grins at him, a lopsided, half-awake smile that makes Mickey roll his eyes but he isn’t actually that fussed about the pot. He needs to keep sharp today, way too much shit riding on him to risk fucking it up because he can’t stop laughing.

“You’re an asshole is what I’d believe.”

“Junkie asshole. Can’t leave me around drugs, Abe.”

Mickey pauses in towelling his hair and cocks his head in her direction

“Really?”

“Yeah really. Shit. You left me alone for five minutes and I smoked the one joint we have. Didn’t even save you any.”

She looks anxious now and Mickey knows that one of her monologue confessions is about to spring forth and as he hasn’t even had coffee yet, he figures it’s best to cut that one off before it begins.

“I don’t care that you smoked it so just …”

“Are we gonna be dealing a lot of drugs in Mexico?”

“Huh?”

Mickey bites into an apple and picks up his drink, trying not to show the rush of hopeful excitement that sprang from her use of the word ‘we’.

“Drugs? In Mexico? Cause I figure if we are then you should probably leave me behind.”

“You bailing on me too?”

The hopeful excitement wobbles and his words come out a lot needier than Mickey intended. He fills his mouth with more fruit to stop any other whiny crap coming out.

“I’m not bailing on you but I can’t be around high volumes of narcotics. I will do all the drugs we have and get our fingers cut off or whatever the Cartel do …”

“Cartel…?”

“And also, Ian hasn’t bailed on you. Personally I think he’ll come with you – maybe not the whole way, I don’t know how much of a pussy he is, but he’ll at least get in the van.”

“He’s not a pussy. And I’m not taking the van! Things a piece of crap.”

Mickey snaps, then chokes on his apple and Nicky waits patiently for him to decide whether or not he is about to die before continuing as he gulps down a glass of water and pounds his chest.

“Whatever, the point is … shit … what was my point?”

“How the hell should I know?”

Mickey quips, voice harsh from his near death experience. Nicky stands up and walks over to him, resting her hands lightly on his shoulders.

“You are a really great kid, really great. I don’t even know how I know that but I just do. I want you to make it outta here, Abe. I really want that.”

“Okay.”

Mickey nods, his eyes darting away from her intense brown gaze because that sort of eye contact with anyone but Ian makes him feel a little claustrophobic and he doesn’t know what to do with her emotion.

“So I can’t be the one who fucks it up for you. Me and drugs … we’re like that shitty couple who hate each other but keep going because the sex is amazing. I can’t help it and I can’t control it.”

“Yeah I know that feeling.”

Mickey quirks his eyebrow in teasing irony and Nicky acknowledges it fondly

“Right. So I have to be honest with you and say that I am the shittiest person when it comes to narcotics and I want to go with you, but ...”

“You do?”

Mickey’s eyes snap back to hers and Nicky gives him another one of those sweetly lopsided smiles

“I do, fresh start could be good for me and Chicago is fucking freezing.”

“Not even winter yet.”

Mickey smirks and then softens into a genuine smile as Nicky hands over around a third of a blunt.

“I lied, I did save you some but I wanted you to know that I have a problem and I don’t want to make it your problem too. Did I make my point?”

Nicky watches as Mickey lights it, looks pointedly at her and after a long inhale that makes his chest rattle, steps into the bathroom and drops the rest in the toilet bowl, exhaling through the little window.

“Yeah you did. Fuckin’ long winded and dramatic way to make it, but we got there.”

He rolls his shoulders and thinks for a moment.

“You okay with guns? I can run those instead, probably less hassle to be honest. And there is always beat down work too. Wherever you go, someone always wants to pay to fuck someone else up.”

“I was more thinking coffee shop on the beach front, serving espressos to tourists.”

Nicky sighs happily at the thought but Mickey wrinkles his nose in distate

“Fuck that. I want to make some cash and then buy the damn coffee store. I ain’t bein’ some assholes waiter”

“Sweet! Okay you buy it, then you can make me manager.”

“More like fire your ass and get someone who don’t give me shit every day.”

Mickey throws over his shoulder as he begins styling his hair.

“Oh fuck off. You know you find me delightful.”

“Sure as shit wouldn’t be serving any glittery crap.”

Nicky rolls her eyes as she leans against the door jamb watching him.

“For someone who hated it, you sure bring it up a lot.”

Mickey raises his middle finger in the mirror and declines to answer. Nicky winks at him and smiles

“I’m gonna make a special latte. It’ll be milk, coffee …”

“Sounds like a real game changer …”

“Shut up. Milk, coffee, a shot of vodka and … get this, some dark rum on top and I’m gonna call it ‘Abe’s Revenge’”

“Revenge for what?”

“Everything.”

Nicky opens her eyes wide and nods sagely and after thinking about his life for a moment, Mickey snorts and turns back from the mirror.

“Why the fuck not? Abe’s Revenge.”

“Or ‘Mickey’s’ if you like?”

Nicky offers, arching one eyebrow.

“Abe’s is fine.”

Mickey sniffs dismissively, as if he hasn’t bitched about the nickname incessantly and strides past her.

“Of course it fucking is.”

Nicky laughs to herself.

*